


Sand Man

by solar_celeste



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gotham is killing them, Selina coaches Bruce in parenting, cuddling ensues, so they do, they are so done with galas, they just wanna sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 08:10:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solar_celeste/pseuds/solar_celeste
Summary: Being a Gotham vigilante takes its toll and one little ten year old is beyond exhausted.So is his father.





	Sand Man

**Author's Note:**

> Damian is just such a smol baby.  
> I nearly abused that fact.  
> I'm sorry for nothing.

It had been a long last few days. With yet another Arkham breakout the night before, the dynamic duo of father and son hadn’t been able to retire to their beds until near sunrise.

Not only that, but it had been Wednesday. This meant school for Damian and W.E. for Bruce. Only two hours of sleep for the both.

After far too many coffees, Bruce brought Damian to school on his way to the office, arriving at eight thirty. He then suffered and somehow managed to stay awake through seven meetings before leaving at three to pick up his son.

Damian was silent as usual when he climbed into the backseat, throwing his school bag carelessly next to him. Bruce has decided that he was too tired to attempt to force small talk, it never worked anyway.

From the looks of it, Damian was just as exhausted as his father. Bruce watched in the review mirror as his son tried (and barely succeed) at keeping his lolling head up and his closing eyes open.

They followed a fairly normal routine when they returned to the manor. Damian retiring to the kitchen for some of Alfred’s customary after school cookies and milk. Bruce turning upstairs to finish the days paperwork.

Then, if the world be willing, the two would spar and train with each other for a couple hours before dinner and then patrol. But tonight was an off night.

Instead, they had to prepare for a charity gala that both of them would rather opt out of. Bruce didn’t feel like putting on his ‘Brucie’ facade tonight and Damian didn’t like the crowds. he didn’t like any crowds, too many people and too much happening. So of course he had to try his hand if getting out of the gathering.

“ Father, I see the meaning for yours, but I do not know why my presence is needed.” Said Damian, sitting in the plush chair at the corner of the master bedroom. He wore a small monkey suit, a haphazardly tied bowtie, and a pair of red converse. His legs swung slightly.

“ You wouldn’t have to come, but Alfred had plans he needed to attend to and I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“ I would be able to manage.” Damian glared.

“ The answer is no.” Bruce, was stern. There would be no changing his mind.

“ Well then I’m sure Pennyworth can reschedule.”

“ Son, listen. I know you don’t want to do this, believe me, I don’t want to go either but I have to. We need maintain a civilian identity as well. just give me tonight okay? then we can go anywhere you want this weekend, alright?” Bruce kneeled and began to properly fix the boys tie.

“ Anywhere?” Damian asked, his father was giving him immense power. And there was one place in particular he would love to go.

“ Within reason, but yes.” Okay.... a little less power but still, power.

“ Deal.” Damian held out his hand. They shook on it.

“ Alright boy, lets fix that hair of yours before someone tries to bring you to the zoo.”

After slightly more grumbling about ill mannered imbeciles from Damian, Bruce had finished styling his sons hair and the two made the short car ride to the gala.

Bruce decided being nice was exhausting about thirty minutes after arriving. After and hour, he was really tempted to call it quits and snap at he next person that asked him about stocks. And he totally would have, if not for knowing it would certainly earn him a _look_ from Alfred.

Even if the butler wasn’t there to see himself. Nothing got passed Alfred.

Damian acted as he usually did during galas. He stuck close to his father, glancing anxiously at the crowds and talking only when spoke to (his own preference) or when he wanted another soda or juice.

The crowds though, are what caused him the most exhaustion. Both his prior teachings and his anxiety told him to be extra cautious of the crowds. Don’t let yourself get distracted, don’t take your eyes away, don’t let your guard down and pay attention to _everything._ It was exhausting.

It was only a few hours into the party when Bruce was talking to a reporter about his latest deal that he felt Damian stumble into him. He took a moment to pause the conversation and look at his son. Damian was steadying himself and rubbing watery eyes with fists and looking all too cute for his own good. The whole seen made Bruce doubt that his son hadn’t just fallen asleep on his feet.

He didn’t really think about it, just reached down and put his hands under his sons arms, lifting Damian to his hip, red converse dangling quite pathetically. The reporter literally cooed and Bruce was surprised Damian didn’t attempt to leap from his arms and attack her or refuse being held all together.

Damian didn’t really understand why his father had picked him up. Had he caught his stumble? Was there danger? Had Damian missed something in the crowd during those brief moments he decided to close his eyes?

But after a moment of looking around there was nothing. And Damian decided that maybe this was just something parents _did._ And it was sad really that he couldn’t say for sure. But it showed their progress when he seemed to decide that he felt safe enough in his father’s arms to finally close his eyes and get the sleep he’s been needing for days.

And Bruce was shocked, because this wasn’t something that Damian did. Because Damian was so _tiny._ So _light, too_ light, and he had been too busy to notice. But now he noticed, and even let out a fond smile when he saw how Damian’s tanned cheek was smushed into the collar of his suit.

“ His looks are going to get him in trouble one day.” Came a voice somewhere to Bruce’s right, he turned to see Selena. 

“ Don’t remind me.” He answered, chuckling softly. Stroking baby soft black hair from his sons closed eyes.

“ He takes after his father in that.” She continued, Bruce smiles softly. “ He should be in bed.”

“ Are you telling me how to raise my kids?” Asked Bruce, but it was playful.

“ You should be in bed too.” She came closer at this, putting a hand on his shoulder, months ago he would have pulled away, But they had become closer and now he fought leaning into the touch. Instead, he used his free hand to wave at the party around them.

“ Go home.” She continued. “ And get the rest I know you’ve both been needing for days.”

“ I can’t just _leave,_ Selena.” He says incredulously.

“ Say he’s sick.” She gestures at Damian and says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“ Something tells me Damian wouldn’t like that.” He’s still smiling he realizes, perhaps he should stop.

“ I don’t hear any objections.” Says Selena, putting a hand to her ear to pretend she’s listening. Bruce only finds himself smiling harder at this.

“ Spread the word for me?” He asked, already grabbing his and his sons coat from one of many hooks.

“ Do you have to ask?” She watches the Bat as he wrangles his son into the small and puffed red winter coat.

“ Thanks Selena.” He says, giving up on hiding his grin and smiling once more before turning to leave. He walks back out through the doors to the fundraiser hall the charity event was being held at. The cold winter air of Gotham hits his face and passes easily through his suit jacket. He was born and raised in Gotham though, and the cold snowy air doesn’t bother him like he knows it does the little desert boy in his arms. He speaks with a valet about his vehicle and moves to pull his own jacket tighter around his son.

The car comes around soon enough and he nods a thanks and takes the keys. He unlocks the doors of the black Tesla and moves to the back. He shifts Damian into his grey and blue carseat and begins to strap him in both thankful and surprised that the boy hasn’t been woken by all the movement.

The drive home is even quicker than the drive to the event had been and upon arriving. Bruce quickly scrawled a one handed note to Alfred telling him that they had arrived earlier than originally planned and would both be in bed by the time the butler returned.

It almost seemed surreal to Bruce as he made his way to his bedroom with Damian in his arms. As he stopped briefly in his sons room to grab the boys batman footie pajamas, both because he wanted to and because they would be easier to put on his sleeping form.

And the Dark Knight found that he couldn’t lose his smile as he lay Damian on his giant bed and began removing his child’s small clothing. How when he folded the tiny suit and untied the converse he was reminded that yes, Damians clothes were still bought from the kids section and no, he wasn’t even wearing boxers yet.

And Bruce didn’t mind that he couldn’t suppress the slight feeling of hope in his chest that Damian still has some childhood left and that the boy could be salvaged. That maybe the damage his mother and grandfather had done could no, not be reversed, but possibly mended. And he relished in the fact that he felt like such a dad when he considered waking Damian up so that the boy could brush his teeth and use the bathroom, because he had had so much sugar and drank a lot of liquids at the gala.

Bruce didn’t even feel guilty when he selfishly decided he wouldn’t because he knew the boy would insist on returning to his own bed if he had the chance.

So instead he changed into a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, grabbing his son once again, placing both him and his boy under the blankets. Drawing Damian as close as possible and breathing in that wonderful scent of children’s shampoo.

And he couldn’t help his closing eyes or that fact that he smiled himself to sleep because things just couldn’t be anymore perfect.

And if when Alfred opened the door to the master bedroom the next morning to see both his charges asleep and cuddling, he had been too silent to wake them. And if he retreated back downstairs with nothing but a thousand photos, if he picked up the phone to call both the school and the office to tell them the Waynes would be taking a personal day, well, no one would have any proof.

Accept for all the recipients of the next Christmas card.


End file.
